


Ignition

by Ancalime1



Series: Unnamed Astronaut AU [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Astronaut AU, Astronauts, Gen, I'M VERY ORGANIZED AS YOU CAN SEE, Outer Space, Space AU, author likes space but doesn't know how to write space, author tried his best, but his best was not enough, so everything is just peaches and gravy here, this is the first chapter, this is well before bruce contracts the hulk parasite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-29 12:06:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18222938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ancalime1/pseuds/Ancalime1
Summary: A wormhole opens up near Mars. Probes report discoveries of alien life within. A bunch of idiot scientists, Bruce Banner included, decide to investigate.





	Ignition

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote half of this like several months ago and then stopped when I realized I had no idea how launch sequences work. Or shuttle docking procedures. Or how anything works, really. So a lot of this is like, gleaned from NASA webpages and documentary clips and transcripts and shit. It's probably all grossly incorrect however, on account of me not knowing how to look for things on the internet. Ah well! If there are any technical mistakes that you know of, please feel free to let me know.
> 
> A thousand thanks to blueemissary (@asgardianbrucebanner on tumblr) for beta-ing!! You're my hero <3

****_ Breathe,  _ said a voice in his head. _ Breathe in, breathe out. Just like that. _

That was what Bruce was trying to do in this very moment as he sat in his place behind the dashboard, squished between his crewmates. He found it ironic, this—a tank of oxygen attached to him, and he couldn’t breathe if he tried. 

_ “T minus 50 seconds,”  _ fizzled ground control through their earpieces.  _ “How we doin’ up there, folks?” _

“Cramped,” came Stark’s snippy response. “And itchy. Look, could you just hurl us into space already? It’s on my foot.”

“Can it, Stark,” said Commander Foster. “We’re all good in here. Though Banner’s looking a little green to me.”

“Negative, Commander. I feel fine,” said Bruce, a note of irritation in his voice. He did not feel fine. He felt very much the opposite of fine. He wondered if it was too late to back out of the mission—perhaps he could clamber over his crewmates and out the hatch, then clear the site before the launch started. 

He wondered how fast he could run in a space suit. 

Something closed around his wrist, and his eyes fluttered open—weird, he didn’t remember having closed them—to see Commander Foster’s gloved hand clenched around it, urging him back to reality. “Steady, Banner,” she said, voice smooth-but-authoritative. “It’s going to be alright. We’ll be okay.”

“ _ T minus 31 seconds. Ground launch sequencer is go for auto sequence start. _ ”

Bruce groaned. He was going to be sick. 

_ Breathe. _

Oh, God.

“ _ T minus 10 seconds.” _

“Ready,” said Commander Foster, squaring her shoulders against her seat.

“ _ Main engine start in 10… 9… 8….” _

He squeezed his eyes shut, his hands clenching at his sides. 

“ _ 7… 6… 5….” _

He heard Commander Foster say something, but whatever it was translated into muffled nonsense in his ears. His head was throbbing with panic, and within his skull a pressure so intense began to build that he thought it might explode.

“ _ 4… 3… 2…. _ ”

The hand around his wrist tightened, and his eyes shot open.

And before he knew it, the air was churning with sound, and the shuttle was in motion. His panicked breathing seemed to be effectively drowning out the sound of the rest of the launch sequence, as well as whatever the hell Commander Foster was saying. All he could hear now were the hollow gasps inside his helmet, and the roaring of engines beneath them. And then the sky came at him through the viewport, and he was slammed against his seat.

He let out a muffled cry as they accelerated into the air, gravitational force skyrocketing and crushing his chest with pressure. Out of his tear-streaked vision, he could see his crewmates’ eyes screwed shut, braced against the heavy climb of g’s. He clenched his teeth and did the same, and the sky disappeared from his view. Somehow not being able to see made it even more difficult to breathe however, and each breath he took was a strangled gasp for air. It was as if a car had been dropped on him, trapping him under its crushing weight and crumpling his chest cavity. 

And then, just when he thought his rib cage might collapse, the g’s steadily dropped, and the suffocating pressure was removed from his chest. He could breathe again, thank God. 

_ Inhale, exhale. _

He felt himself become weightless inside his suit.

_ Oh, no. _

Renewed panic seized him, and he immediately felt the urge to plant himself into his seat. His eyes were still clamped tight. Did he dare open them? God, the viewport was  _ right there.  _ If he opened his eyes now, all he’d see was—

“ _ Everything looks beautiful from down here, R-3 _ ,” chirped ground control. “ _ How do you read in there, Commander _ ?”

“Systems nominal,” said the commander. “Stark? What’s the word?”

“Ah, affirmative, Commander, all systems are nominal,” confirmed Stark. “Crew looks less than nominal, however, on account of Dr. Banner looking like a—”

“Thank you, Stark,” said the commander, followed by a smacking sound and a resounding “ _ oof! _ ” “Yes, we’re all good in here. Stark’s got us set to rendezvous with Roskilde-1 in T minus ten minutes.” 

“ _ Good. Have him read off the checklist when R-1 comes top-side. _ ” 

“Copy that.” A gloved hand patted Bruce’s wrist. “Dr. Banner,” whispered Commander Foster. “Look.”

Bruce gulped, his body slowly becoming unfrozen. Was that an order? Was that something he could technically disobey? It was complicated, this whole commander-underling-thing. But he supposed he had to open his eyes at some point, even if it was literally the last thing he wanted to do right now. 

He drew in a heavy breath, and eased his eyes open.

He gasped at the sight before them. The black gloom of space hung just outside the viewport, a sinister fog pierced by tiny, distant stars. A single, violent shudder made its way down his spine. Somehow he had always imagined being in space as just standing inside the night sky. And that was correct, to a point—however, it didn’t quite do justice to the sheer intensity of the darkness, and the cold, eerie glimmer of the stars. It was as if the crew had been plunged into the dark depths of an ocean, the yawning untouched trenches of a primordial and unexplored world.

He blinked, his eyes watering from vertigo. If he stared any longer, he was gonna lose it. He heaved a few more heavy breaths, followed by a resigned sigh and the  _ thunk  _ of his helmet against his seat. 

The commander laughed. “Steady there, Banner,” she said, giving his shoulder a pat. “We’re almost home. You’ll get used to it after a while.”

“Thanks Commander,” he murmured. A sudden stinging sensation gripped his skull, and he winced in pain. “Ugh. Are we a go for helmets off?”

The commander gave him a rueful smile. “Go ahead.”

“And I was just starting to get comfortable, too,” sighed Stark. He twisted his own helmet and swatted it at Commander Foster, who responded by elbowing him in the arm. “ _ Ack— _ T minus five minutes till rendezvous. You know, Commander, zero g doesn’t make that any less painful.”

“Nor does it make you any less chatty,” countered Foster. “Ground. You see what I have to put up with out here?”

“ _ Our condolences, Commander. How’s Dr. Banner faring?” _

“Fine,” croaked Bruce, fumbling his helmet in his hands. “Uh. A little motion sick. But it’ll pass.” God. The sooner he could get into the station—feet on the ground and  _ away  _ from all windows—the better. He burrowed into his suit and closed his eyes.

“Three minutes. Preparing docking procedures.”

As Stark rattled off the docking checklist, Bruce felt himself drift off, sinking into his seat, pretending he was at home in bed instead of being strapped to a chair in space. He had almost convinced himself of it too, when the shuttle jolted forward, a mechanical whirring indicating that their craft had been coupled with the station. Beside him, his crewmates heaved a sigh of relief. 

“Nice job, Stark,” said the commander, clapping a hand to his back. “Alright fellas, let’s meet the rest of the gang.”

_ Or we could just, you know, stay here,  _ thought Bruce, biting his tongue so the words wouldn’t actually come out. As anxious as he was to board, he needed a few minutes. Or an hour—he wasn’t picky. Just a moment to recollect himself, to let the launch sink in before he threw himself into the next thing. 

He jerked in surprise as a space suit floated in front of him, bunched up and bearing the patch  _ STARK.  _ With an annoyed huff, he swatted it away from him and shot an accusatory glance at Stark, who was stretching luxuriously beside the exit hatch. “Rise and shine, Banner,” he crowed. “We’ve got ass to haul.”

“ _ Language _ ,” piped ground control. 

Stark furrowed his brow in surprise. “Oh, Ground. You’re still here?”

“Stark!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Stark gave Commander Foster a dismissive wave. “I’ll meet you guys in the station. Last one there is a space-sick Banner.”

“Hey Stark?” croaked Bruce.

“Yes, dear?”

“Get fucked.”

“ _ LANGUAGE _ ,” seethed ground control.

“Gladly. Ground? Grow a spine.”

Commander Foster gaped at him in disbelief as he exited the hatch. “He… is not gonna be allowed back into the space program after this,” she said, shaking her head. She peeled off her suit and stowed it away beneath her seat. “Feel free to take a moment if you need one. We won’t start cryo without you.”

“Thanks, Commander,” said Bruce, dipping his head. The commander nodded and followed Stark out the hatch. He sighed and hugged his chest. Cryosleep—that was another thing he wasn’t totally keen on doing. They had run simulations before, had been assured that the process was totally safe. Only… they’d be sleeping for  _ months _ . The entire crew would be shelved away, frozen and fetal, susceptible to any dangers that the on-board computer couldn’t handle. It was a chilling thought, one that he wasn’t entirely sure even his crewmates were prepared for. But then again, no earthly thing could have possibly prepared them for this.

He sucked in a deep breath, and unclipped himself from his seat. He had briefly forgotten that he was currently in zero g, and stared in surprise as he drifted aimlessly in the air. If he hadn’t been so motion sick, he might have actually enjoyed the feeling of being weightless. But he couldn’t shake the nauseating sensation of not having any grip on his surroundings, of not being planted securely on the ground. 

He sighed and shed his suit, then slipped through the hatch into the station. 

The mock-up craft back on Earth only moderately resembled the actual Roskilde-1 station. An elongated tube served as the core of the station, the axle of which three spinning components rotated around. The rotating sections allowed for the simulation of gravity—much like the rotation of the earth—while the core remained in zero g.

The cryo pods were located in one of the rotating sections. A relief, really, as Bruce very much wanted to have his feet on the ground before he went under. He hauled himself up to the chamber, then sighed as his feet found the floor again. A small pang of disappointment hit him just then, but he wasn’t sure why.

He found his crewmates assembled in front of the pods, waiting for him. The crew of the other shuttle was there as well: aerospace engineer James “Rhodey” Rhodes, pilot and communications officer Carol Danvers, and flight surgeon Dr. Helen Cho. He shrank as all eyes suddenly turned to him. “Uh, hey guys,” he said, voice cracking. “Sorry to keep you waiting. I’m here now.”

“We noticed,” said Dr. Cho flatly, raising an eyebrow.

“Ah! Toldja he’d be last,” cut in Stark. “What, you get lost on your way here?”

“He’s only saying that because he got lost himself,” said Rhodey, scoffing. “And we’ve only done the station simulations like what, a hundred times?”

“That’s a pretty light estimate if you ask me,” said the commander, folding her arms. “Okay folks, here’s the deal: Danvers got the word from ground control that we are go for cryo. You know the drill. The on-board computer is set to wake us up in 150 days, so we’ll reconvene then, check our course, and go back to sleep. And when we wake up again… it’ll be crunch-time.”

Right. Crunch-time. They’d wake up just in time to navigate through a wormhole—a phenomenon still fresh from the field of scientific speculation—and hope they’d find what the probes had found. How the rest of the crew was managing to keep their cool up to this point was a mystery to Bruce.

“Right, well… I don’t know about the rest of you guys, but I’m ready for a nap,” said Stark, tapping one of the cryo pods. “Wake me up when September ends. Er, specifically five months from when September ends. Whatever 150 days is.”

“Five months,” choked Bruce. “Why does that seem longer than I remember?”

“What, you having second thoughts?” 

“Well, yeah.” Bruce sighed, then activated his own cryo pod: a smallish, cylindrical glass case that bore an uncanny resemblance to a coffin. “But I guess it’s too late to bail now.”

He jumped as a hand came down on his shoulder, and he turned to see the commander behind him, her eyes warm and reassuring. “We’ll be okay, Dr. Banner,” she said. “You have my word.”

_ Your word?  _ Bruce thought, resisting the urge to bite his lip. What good would her word do if the computer failed to wake them up? Or if any other catastrophe—which were unfortunately quite abundant in space—were to happen? Bruce wasn’t a man of faith. He certainly wasn’t about to have any in people, people who were just as fallible as the machines they relied on. 

He gave a hard swallow and nodded.

He sighed and began to prep his pod.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this, please consider leaving a comment or kudos, as they make me feel all warm and fuzzy. Or come check me out @autistic-thor on tumblr if you wanna hang or yell at me about space. Thanks loves~


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